


Golden

by charonhenson



Series: Singularity [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Biblical stuff, Body Horror, Fantasy, Gen, Horror, Monsters, its pretty weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7112380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charonhenson/pseuds/charonhenson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dennis begins to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden

It begins with crows of triumph as they ricochet around the bar, the gang toasting the successful theft of a dog from one of Frank's rivals- Frank seems to be the only one fully aware of exactly why they stole the dog, but a win is a win. 

"Hey!.... man." Dennis peters off with a wince, frowning in discomfort. Mac grazes his shoulder with a finger.  
"You ok dude?" He regards Dennis, eyes wide with concern. He looks like his dad.  
"Yeah, yeah, just... headache I guess. Might head home." Another wince. Something feels off-kilter, but he can't quite place it.

"Boo!" Dee calls as he slides off his stool. Dennis curls his lip at her, but doesn't reply. He leaves the catcalls of "Bird!" "Shut up bird!" "*Caw caw*!" behind, driving home in silence. 

Twenty minutes later, he stands in his bathroom massaging lotion into his face. The headache thrums on behind the backs of his eyes. "Ugh."  
His fingertips brush up into his hairline to try and massage away the ache, brushing over two small, almost unnoticeable bumps on either side of his head. He stops. "The hell?"  
He rubs at them. They don't budge. He tries to push them back into his head, a drop of sweat running nervously down the back of his neck. 

"You ok dude?"  
Dennis whips around, swallowing nervously. Mac has his eyebrow raised in the way that he hates. "You're early." His voice is surprisingly stable. 

"Yeah, with you gone it got pretty boring so I headed out." Mac frowns. "What's going on? You look pretty freaked out."  
"Nothing!" Dennis replies, too loud. Mac stays in the door for another beat before slowly retreating. "Alright, uh. Night I guess."  
Dennis flicks his hand after him in a halfhearted wave before turning back to the mirror. This time, the mysterious bumps seem to be gone. He sighs, rinsing his hands. 

-

"And what's with all the milk? Right?!"  
Charlie is gesturing wildly, still hopped up on adrenaline after his latest encounter with the McPoyle brothers. Luckily, they only stabbed the table this time. 

"You know, I heard somewhere that humans actually aren't supposed to drink milk. Neither are cats." Dennis is in Intellectual Mode, two ragged nights of sleep stripping him of the energy to gesticulate wildly in Excited. 

"Dude, what? I thought milk was like really good for you." Mac curses wildly. "No wonder I keep breaking my toes. Milk was supposed to make me stronger! This is bullshit!" He turns to Dennis, ready to keep ranting, but stops. "- Oh, shit."  
"What? What is it?" Dennis frowns as everyone stops to stare at him.  
"You're bleeding." Dee is looking at him like he's just thrown up. Charlie swipes a grubby finger over Dennis' head before he can recoil, showing him the red digit. Heat swells in his throat. 

"Did you hit your head?"  
"What?" Dennis looks back up into Mac's face, concern bloomed over his features.  
"Did you hit your head or something? It's on both sides. You must have- did you headbutt something?"  
"I- uh. I must have- I gotta. I should go." Dennis stumbles out of the bar, his friends' gazes following him. Fumbling with his keys, he starts the car and speeds back to the apartment, cold sweat and blood running over his brow.  
At a red light, he risks a gentle probe of his head. A small, blunt nub of bone protrudes from either side. He gags and wraps his hand tightly back round the steering wheel. Once home, he throws himself into his bed, dry swallowing a handful of Ambien. Maybe they'd be gone in the morning like last time. 

-

It's 3am when Dennis shoots awake, swaddled in damp sheets. He clasps at the bedframe on either side of the mattress with clammy hands, unmoving but for the flex of his fingers. Eventually he turns his head to the left, though he whips it back when he eyes the bloodstains grazed over his pillowcase. Squeezing his eyes closed, he rolls to the side, willing himself back into sleep. His spine curls over into the foetal position, locking him into a hunch. He chews his lip all the way into his REM state.

-

Dennis hasn't left the apartment in a while, avoiding Mac's eyes when he emerges for showers and water. Mac eyes the drying blood on his face, and tells him he should see a doctor. Dennis nods vaguely.  
One night, Mac brings takeout and beer. He ambushes Dennis on his way to the shower and offers him a beer and box of noodles. Dennis shakes his head numbly and pushes past before Mac can focus on the short twigs hiding just barely under his hair. Though he's always been taller than Mac, he almost towers now. 

Later, Mac finds 3 small bird carcasses hidden under the couch. The bones have been almost stripped, gleaming an off- white. When he brings them to Charlie, they are identified as two pigeons and a budgie. A missing poster for Archie, the cat of an old woman along the hall, is slid under his door the next day. 

-

It's been 72 hours since Dennis last left his room. Though Mac was used to episodes of seclusion, Dennis never went more than 24 hours without showering. There is a coil of worry settled in his gut as he gently knocks on the door.  
"Dennis? You there?" No reply follows. He sighs.  
"I'm- We're all getting pretty worried, we haven't seen you in a while."  
A low, rattling sound, like a log being pushed over stones, emerges. Inexplicably, Mac is gripped with fear. 

"Leave." Dennis' voice finally worms through the rumble, though it sounds warped and rolled around the way a human voice could never. Mac leaves. 

-

Thundergun is playing on a low volume when the door to Dennis' room swings open for the first time in 6 days. Mac leaps to his feet, but something primal stops him from running over. A gurgled breath whispers from beyond the threshold.  
"Are you there dude?" He calls shakily. The door slams closed, and the person below them taps their ceiling with a broom. Mac phones Charlie. 

Half an hour later, the two are twisting the door handle frantically to no avail. Eventually, Charlie snaps and runs against the door, shunting it off of the hinges. The room is empty. 

"I don't know what to say, man." Charlie pants, hands on his knees. "I think he's gone."  
"Yeah, no shit. Thanks anyway I guess."  
"No worries. I gotta go, Frank needs me for a thing, but. Call me back if he turns up."  
"Yeah, yeah man. Later."  
Mac lets Charlie out the front. When he turns back, the air sticks in his chest.  
The door is back in place, untouched and unbroken. 

Mac didn't tell Charlie for fear of scaring him out, but there were claw marks leading under the bed. 

-

Next time the door opens, Mac drops a plate. This time, he ignores the hard stone of panic in his gut, quickly pacing over to the frame. What meets his eyes almost makes him turn back around and run, as far as he can. 

The thing standing a foot from the door has Dennis' face, so it must be him, but. The similarities end there. He towers 7 foot tall even hunched as he is, though it looks as if the curvature of his spine is warped that way. Thick lumps of bone line his joints, running up his neck and likely his vertebrae. Where there is no bone, long spines cover his back and arms like a porcupine, intersecting with coarse, wiry hair. The face, near unchanged, is somehow overflowing with teeth. Shimmering mucus coats his hands and lips. 

The most dramatic change is the growth of two thick, curling antlers, perched atop his head. His- Dennis'- eyes stare at Mac blankly, almost serene. 

Mac phones the gang, then vomits into the sink. 

-

The arrival of their friends is loud and all at once. Dee is the first to burst through the door, demanding to see Dennis. Then she does, immediately shrieking and running into the bathroom.  
Frank walks in next, blathering about 'waste of time', 'where's the asshole'. When his eyes fall on Dennis still stood by the door, he seizes up, reaching for the gun in his waistband. Mac pulls him back, tugging the weapon from his grip and letting him fall in shock onto the couch. Charlie is the last to enter. 

Surprisingly, Charlie remains the calmest, staring at Dennis in silence for a solid 2 minutes before nodding shakily. When he turns away, Mac sees the long wet streak in his jeans. Not so calm, then. 

After splashing cold water onto both Dee and Frank, they stand by the doorframe, hissing about what the hell they're supposed to do. Though it likely wouldn't make a difference, Mac quickly kicks a doorstop into the room to deter any more slamming. 

"It's not like we can take him to the hospital!" Mac whispers frantically.  
"I could always-"  
"Frank, for the last time, you're not shooting him!" Dee reiterates angrily.  
"We could try and speak to him?" Charlie chews his sleeve thoughtfully. "Would anyone do that?"  
A pause of silence falls, and everyone looks at Mac. He sighs. "...Fine." 

Standing in the doorway, Mac takes one last glance at the others, who nod frantically at him. He grits his teeth, then opens his mouth.  
"Are-"  
"DO."  
They all jump.  
"NOT."  
Dennis's mouth doesn't move, yet his voice, double-toned and twisted, thrums through the walls.  
"FEAR. ME."  
Mac's throat is dry. Sneaking a glance behind him, he sees Charlie gripping the doorframe till his knuckles are white.  
"I DO NOT. HURT?"  
Mac's breath is coming in short, quick bursts.  
"I AM. DO NOT FEAR LIFE."  
"Ok, ok." Mac nods, holding up his hands in surrender. "We aren't. We aren't afraid."  
Dennis tilts his head, as if he can sense the blatant lie.  
"I AM. A GOD."  
Shock rips through the room. Mac looks back at Charlie, who looks stricken. He turns back, hot tears streaking over his cheeks, ignored as they soak into his shirt. 

"God? You're... you're God?"  
"I AM. LIFE. GOLD...GOLDEN."  
Mac steps forward. "Mac? Mac!" Charlie yelps, but he doesn't move to pull him back. Mac gently rests his hand against Dennis' chest.  
"You're God?"  
Dennis smiles back at him like a renaissance portrait. With inhuman speed, his hand shoots out and wraps around Mac's arm. Charlie steps forward, and Dennis flexes his fingers. Bone snaps under his grip. 

"Mac, get away from him!" Charlie pleads with him. Dee and Frank watch from the other side of the room, gripping each other in fear. 

"No, no! It's ... it's ok man." Though his shoulders are braced in pain, Mac is smiling. Shimmering gel is slipping over the hand still on his arm. He gazes into Dennis' face. "Our father, wh-who art in heaven..." Dennis winces, but Mac begins reciting on autopilot, never looking away. The hand detaches from his arm, which falls limp to his side. He is slowly turned and clasped into Dennis' chest. Charlie looks pained. Mac's eyes are flecked with gold. 

As he prays, golden threads dance out from behind Dennis' back, weaving around the pair like a maypole. Cocooning the two together. 

Charlie stands a mere few feet away, hands clenched by his sides like a child. "Mac?" He asks, sounding lost. Mac disappears beneath the strings. Dennis curls around him, protecting his makeshift chrysalis. There is no prayer left.

-

Dee and Frank leave eventually, eyes darting behind them as if they are being followed. Charlie stays stood before Dennis until he can't stay upright, eventually curling up in a ball on the floor and passing out. When he awakes, the pair has gone. 

-

"Where did they go?" Dee asks when he tells her later. He shrugs.  
"All I know is that they're gone."  
"Maybe they'll come back?" She suggests, patting Charlie's shoulder hopefully. His head drops as he walks away, leaving Dee's question unanswered. Frank shuffles in.  
"Any sign of them?" Dee asks.  
"Nah, nothin'."  
She huffs. "Well, you can't really look for God, can you?"  
"God?" Frank looks incredulous. "Dee, that wasn't no God in there."  
She looks to where Charlie is slumped against a booth and chews her lip thoughtfully.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story for this show, so be nice!!


End file.
